The prairie in all its glory, gives way to fields.  The colors as God intends them are there for all to see.

Nature claims all, loves all and knows all

Spirit is everywhere

Darkness will come

and Elemental beauty abounds

This is magic

Congratulations, you have reached the final level of 2020

I don't often blog here, and yet today I am drawn to it.

This year sucks, hands down.  Things have been canceled that I wanted to do and places I have wanted to go have been closed.

But none of that matters right now.  At least, it doesn't anymore

You see, I got word that a friend from WAY back when I was still a single lady and extremely shy (not that I am an outgoing person to this day) passed away this past week.  This was a friend with whom I used to talk for HOURS on end about anything and everything, and he oddly enough was one of the ones who encouraged me to "go for it" when meeting my now-husband.  And now he's gone, struck suddenly down in middle age.

I have cried ugly tears tonight, and have had some bittersweet thoughts about this dear friend.  But in mourning this loss, I also have reconnected with friends from that time period, friends I didn't think I'd EVER talk to again, as WE mourn our friend.

And right now, I feel oddly hopeful.  Perhaps it is by design that this is the week of Hope in the Advent calendar.  We hope for better things to come.  We hope for better chances.  We hope to have one last time to talk, to connect, to say the things that matter.

This year has been an emotional rollercoaster, but we've made it... Let's keep hoping we can go far, and then actually put that hope into action.

Don't just wish for one more chance.... write a letter, send a text, make a phone call to say what you want to say (I'm a letter/email writer myself because thoughts are easier to type than to speak!)  Don't be afraid to love your friends.

Love and Miss you, dear friend

"This is what God's kingdom is like: a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes. And there's always room for more." ~ Rachel Held Evans

I have always liked the idea that EVERYONE is welcome in God's presence. I have always liked the idea that EVERYONE is welcome to eat at God's table, and worship God in his or her own way.

I have never liked the idea that anyone is excluded just because he or she may be different. No matter if a person is the wrong ethnicity, the wrong gender, the wrong political ideals, the wrong economic stature, in love with the wrong sex or thinks they are in the wrong body.....

Maybe it's the fact that I have always felt the need to stick up for others when they have been percieved to be wronged..... Maybe it's my own opinion that I have always looked at faith as a personal and spiritual journey and that no two people can have the exact same journey.  Who  am I to just another's journey (or lack thereof) to God? Who am I to have to justify my own journey of faith to others just to belong in God's family?

Jesus chose to dine with the outcasts in society, so who would that look like today?

I will leave you all with this description of Christianity, written by C.S. Lewis in his book Mere Christianity:

     "I hope no reader will suppose that "mere" Christianity is here put forward as an alternative to the creeds of the existing communions — as if a man could adopt it in preference to Congregationalism or Greek Orthodoxy or anything else.     It is more like a hall out of which doors open into several rooms. If I can bring anyone into that hall, I have done what I attempted. But it is in the rooms, not the hall, that there are fires and chairs and meals. The hall is a place to wait in, a place from which to try the various doors, not a place to live in. For that purpose the worst of the rooms (whichever that may be) is, I think preferable. It is true that some people may find they have to wait in the hall for a considerable time, while others feel certain almost at once which door they must knock at. I do not know why there is this difference, but I am sure God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait. When you do get into the room you will find that the long wait has done some kind of good which you would not have had otherwise. But you must regard it as waiting, not as camping. You must keep on praying for light: and, of course, even in the hall, you must begin trying to obey the rules which are common to the whole house. And above all you must be asking which door is the true one; not which pleases you best by its paint and paneling.     In plain language, the question should never be: "Do I like that kind of service?" but "Are these doctrines true: Is holiness here? Does my conscience move me towards this? Is my reluctance to knock at this door due to my pride, or my mere taste, or my personal dislike of this particular door-keeper?"     When you have reached your own room, be kind to those who have chosen different doors and to those who are still in the hall. If they are wrong they need your prayers all the more; and if they are your enemies, then you are under orders to pray for them. This is one of the rules common to the whole house."

I used to look for angels in the clouds
I used to have hope for better things.
I don't now what happened.

Expanse
For as far as the eye can see
I am left wondering

God never promised us a life without pain
A life without hardship
A life without a hurting heart
And some fear

God has promised that he will lead us when the going gets tough
But we have to follow

"Devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives your purpose and meaning." ~ Morrie Schwartz, as recorded by Mitch Albom in Tuesdays With Morrie.

What ultimately matters is the treasures you build up in heaven, rather than what you have on earth.

Psalm 723

On studying prayers in the Bible (among them being the Lord's prayer) the adult Bible study class that I lead was to answer the question: "What would you want to ask of God today?"  However, due to a great discussion, we didn't get to share our prayers that we wrote ahead of time with each other.  So I thought to share it with everyone here.  And of course, I wrote it like a poem.

Image: Rainer Knäpper, License: artlibre

You are there in the midst of the storm, dearest Lord.  
Over the thunder's roar and the blinding lightning, 
You make your presence known.  
You comfort us and you keep us safe in your arms.  
Even when all that we seem to feel is chaos
And all that we hear is the storm, help us, dear Lord.  
Please help us to remember that it was you who gave the storm its power.  
You created the thunderous roar.  
The winds blow and die away at your whim
And the lightning strikes where you decree.
We are strong in your presence,
Because you are guiding us with and through the storms of life.
Amen

So often we wonder what our life is supposed to be like
What we are supposed to do
What we are supposed to be

Too often we spend too much time wondering, and not enough time doing
Too often we sit and contemplate instead of taking a path
We're too afraid of choosing the wrong path
That we often miss the right path

Life is about trust
Life is about believing
Life is about hope and faith and love
Life is about living
Life is what happens to you while other plans are being made
As John Lennon said

So I challenge myself
Just as I challenge you
To take a step out of your comfort
And live a life that was meant to be lived

I have been thinking on this since I read it as a status on Facebook:

"In many cases, when a person says they'll pray for someone or that someone is in their prayers, 1) they don't, or 2) they do to make themselves feel as though they've contributed towards helping a cause."  This person then goes on to call the act of praying for others as a selfish ego boost.

I have a problem with this.  As a Christian, I am called to uplift others in prayers.  The very act of telling others that you are praying for them, if you are sincere about it, shows to those whom you pray for that they are thought about.  Sometimes, it is the only thing one can do.  I can't often physically assist others through a troubling time, or be with someone going through surgery, but I can let them know I am thinking about them and lift prayers to God to guide them.

Now I know that not everyone follows there same spiritual path, but to claim that something as simple as offering a prayer up to some supreme being is an act  of a selfish ego-boosting individual bothers me greatly. Yes, there are some who do it just to make themselves feel better, but I have met some very strong prayer warriors of many different walks of faith who do pray as a selfless act to aid in the well being of others. 

And since I have chosen to walk the way of the Christian, I leave you with these words: 

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances....." ~ 1 Thessalonians 5.16-18a (NRSV)

What is good about having a Bible
If I don't strive
To be alive
To live as God has wanted me to be
To see
That what I do and say
Reflects HIS way
I need to live in the Word
And not just read it

In the past few hours, I have been thinking really, Really REALLY, REALLY, REALLY hard on this:

What does God want from me?

What does God want my life to be?

What has God planned for me?

I used to think I knew, but now, I am not so sure.  I am almost certain He wants me to teach. But How?  How does he want me to teach?  Am I to use my life as an example?  What does He want me to teach?

 

Dearest Heavenly Father, give me the wisdom to see what it is that you have planned for me.  Allow me the courage, the energy and the strength to keep going on this journey.  Give me the hope to continue even when I feel like falling to the side and giving up.  And God, please remind me that you are always there to guide me.  Amen.

My cats are such annoyances
 
Oh why must they be such pests
And climb up where they aren't really wanted
When it's not convenient
And sleep in places I need to be?

Because they want to remind me that they love me
And that I need them so

Learning Spanish

So there I was, about to turn fifteen years old and sitting in a room of virtual strangers, trying to figure out what was being said.  Two years of middle school Spanish, which I had failed, did not prepare me for being totally on my own amongst teenage females who spoke about as much English as I did Spanish.  I was definitely not prepared. 

Photo of the youth taken 1997, 2 years after I started visiting this part of Mexico.

I had agreed to come on this trip having fallen in love with this place only a few months before.  Then I was with other American teenagers who barely spoke Spanish as well as translators, so I could at least be able to make my needs and wants known.  This weekend trip was different, as by this point in the evening my translators had retired to their own borrowed rooms and I had to rely on my own wits to get me through the night in my own borrowed bed with my new, albeit temporary, roommates.

There were several girls talking and laughing.  I stuck out like a sore thumb, the only blond gringa in a group of dark haired Mexicans.  I felt helpless, as I spoke about 5 words of Spanish well.  The girls must have sensed my discomfort, for one of them, Patti, held out a banana and asked me something in Spanish.  I thought she was giving me a Spanish lesson, so I tried to search my mind for the correct word for banana.

“Es plat… es plantan… plantano, si?” I asked, feeling completely dumb as I stumbled over my words.

Patti shook her head and thought for a moment. “No, you want?” She asked in English, before repeating in Spanish, “quieres?”

“Oh! No, gracias” I replied.  “No me gusta.”   I was telling her I didn’t like it, which was the truth, since I have never liked bananas.

Thus began my Spanish lessons.  While I learned to write and conjugate verbs in high school Spanish courses in my California hometown, I learned to speak it in a tiny town in Mexico, at a home for needy and abused children in Baja California, four hours’ drive from my parents’ home.  I spent several weekends, parts of summers and many a week living and breathing Spanish as spoken in that part of the world, gaining the unique accent that comes from that town.  Soon I was translating for others, a position I found myself in well into my college years and for years after.  And I loved it.   I became nearly fluent in the language, and sometimes had full dreams in Spanish

The children and staff, Christmas 1998

But then, I moved to Iowa.  Yes, there are Spanish speakers here, but their dialect is different.  Their words are faster and they don’t take the time for me to translate their words in my head before becoming impatient with me, so I am more self-conscious of how I speak.  Many don’t even know I understand most of what they are saying as I hear them in certain parts of town.

Yet, when I chat online with the kids that I met and grew up with at that children’s home, as I read their statuses on Facebook and get messages from them, I am once again renewed in my love for the language and my wish to regain the fluency with which I once spoke.

As I wrote this tonight, I recalled a poem, the ONLY poem I had ever memorized in Spanish.   It was a poem by Luis Alberto Ambroggio, "Aprender al ingles" or "Learning English", which was translated into English by Lori M. Carlson.   The first stanza always spoke to me, and even tonight it speaks to me.  Click here for an English translation of the poem.

So if you see me online and you want to strike up a conversation in Spanish, let me know.  I'll be glad to get back into the practice of the second language that I love so much.

I am a Christian

I am a Christian.

I am tired of people trying to put me into their vision of what that means.

 Some examples - these are things people have actually said to me:
  "I'd think a Protestant Christian would agree...."
 "You know, Christians are only concerned with..."
 
 You want to know what I think about a subject?  Then ask me.  Don't assume that I have a stance on something just because the media or "society" or your own personal biases tell you that some stereotypical Christian should.  I choose who I want to vote for, what I want to believe and how I want to think because I was given the same free will as everyone else.  Hello, remember, that human thing called free will.

That said, I am a moderate conservative who is Pro-Choice, Pro-Gay rights, and Pro-Education. WHO or WHAT I vote for is my own business.  What I believe about the various social issues that affect the world today is between me and God.


I chose to be a Christian in 1995 in the summer between my eighth grade year and high school.  I had been going to church with my parents for a few years before then, but it wasn't until I stepped out from their shadow and started to do my own thing that I really started to see what had been taught to me by my parents and those at church.  It wasn't until then that I experienced God for myself. 

I can recall the moment I felt touched by God and knew that this was what I would believe for the rest of my life.  It was on my very first trip to Mexico.  I went there with the youth group from my church.  My mom practically had to force me to go, because I didn't want to go.  Towards the end of the trip, I was having fun, but was totally out of my element.  The last day, as we were getting ready to leave, a light seemed to touch me and I felt a presence that couldn't be described.  I didn't start speaking in tongues or anything, but I knew that I had felt God's presence in my life.  And looking back on those times, I know now that God had been with me before then.

My walk with God has been a series of comings and goings.... every time I think I can do things on my own, he reminds me in his own way that I still need him.  I have tried to turn from God, but have found that I can't.  There's a connection that I have with him that no other one or no other thing can fill the void.  Some may call that a crutch, but I call it having faith in something larger then myself.

My faith has been shaken many times. For four years I tried to hide my light under a bushel for fear of offending people - I didn't want my non-Christian friends, most of whom have been hurt by Christians, to turn away and not befriend me anymore.   Before that, it was Christians themselves who caused me some faith shaking in what I perceived to be ostracism because "square" me didn't fit into their "round" peg of what a Christian should be.  Before that,. it was my own doubts that I couldn't be "good enough."  And each time, God has whispered in my ear, reminding me that he knew who I was before I was even formed.  I was welcomed back into his presence over and over and over again.  Each time, I felt like I was coming home.

What I believe is simple: I believe that Jesus is the Son of God sent down to reconcile any who choose to come back to God with the Father himself.  I believe in God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  I believe that the Bible is written by man and inspired by the Holy Spirit.  I also strongly believe that Jesus taught of love; love for EVERYONE no matter what they believe or do and I try to live up to that command, though I know I fail miserably.

So please get to know me before trying to fit me into your belief about what a Christian should be or what they should do.  

"The problem with stereotyping is not so much a racial problem as it is a problem of limited knowledge and perspective." -Vine Deloria Jr   

I went to a butterfly garden to see the beauty therein

Brilliant flowers of various shades graced me with their presence

Even though they were still showing of their majesty....

 Fall was starting to leave its mark on the flowers

 Though a moth was the only winged friend to visit, the beauty was there

 

 Even in the pond where a few frogs were enjoying the sunshine

I went to a butterfly garden and found nature in all of its majesty

Poppies
Poppies
Poppies!

Slowly trickling
Suddenly downpour rushing
Thunderstorm in June

The sea
The sea is calling me.
Calling me home

The desert comes alive

  

In so many different ways

 

And in so many different colors

 

How beautiful it seems

 

When the desert dreams